Chapter 189: Splicing Limbs
Haruto walked toward the girl in the blue uniform.
As he drew closer, he could make out the name embroidered on her chest badge—Qin Chen.
He raised an eyebrow slightly, his gaze lifting to her face. Sensing his approach, Qin Chen, who had been staring wistfully out the window, turned. A flicker of recognition crossed her features.
"You're the tourist from yesterday?"
Her expression shifted from mild surprise to a bright, professional smile. "What would you like to eat? Today we have stewed wheaten cake, French fries, eel chunks, blanched cabbage, mushroom chicken stew..."
As Qin Chen listed the day's menu, her voice gradually trailed off. She noticed the young man hadn't ordered, or even looked at the food. He was still just staring at her, his eyes unwavering.
"Would you... like something to eat?" she asked again, turning her face away slightly to hide her growing unease.
There was still no answer. Haruto continued to watch her with an unnerving intensity.
Qin Chen lowered her head in silence, a faint, imperceptible blush creeping up the tips of her ears.
'What should I do?'she thought, her heart starting to flutter.'Being stared at like this by a handsome stranger... Could it be because he saved me yesterday? Is this the start of a sweet romance?'
Just as her imagination began to run wild, she risked a peek upward, only to find that Haruto and his companions were already long gone.
She lowered her head again, her left index finger tracing idle circles on the tabletop.
'Could it be... my smile was too undignified? Did I scare him away?'
"...Hey, hey, you didn't take a liking to her, did you?" Mao Yifan nudged Haruto with his elbow, a conspiratorial grin on his face. "You've got a thing for those tall, pretty girls?"
Haruto simply rolled his eyes, refusing to dignify the question with a response. Instead, he reached into a gap that shimmered open beside him, pulled out a photograph, and handed it to Kaguya, who was still looking back toward the canteen with a puzzled expression.
Kaguya accepted the photo, her brow furrowed in confusion. Her eyes dropped to the image, and she froze. She glanced from the photo back toward the distant figure of the canteen worker, her voice laced with astonishment.
"It's really her?"
Haruto nodded. "Almost certainly. She looked familiar when I first saw her yesterday, but it wasn't until I saw the name on her badge just now that I remembered."
"What are you two talking about? You knew that staff member from before?" Mao Yifan's head swiveled between them, trying to piece things together. "Hey, hey, tell me about it." From their fragmented conversation, he could guess they had some connection to the girl from before this instance even began.
"Stop talking and lead the way," Haruto said dismissively.
"I get it, I get it. I won't ask. Why so fierce?" Mao Yifan sighed dramatically, then hopped twice on the spot before jogging ahead to guide them.
The kiosk wasn't far, situated just behind the main canteen area. The three of them rounded the large building and soon saw their destination.
It was a small, lonely tin shack, standing isolated behind the bustling kitchen.
The lights inside were on, casting a sterile, bright glow, but the place was utterly empty. The shelves were sparsely stocked with instant noodles, biscuits, bottled water, and other daily sundries, all of which were coated in a thin, uniform layer of dust. It was clear no one had been here in a very long time.
It made sense. For players in an instance like this, few would be willing to spend precious ghost coins just to buy something to eat.
"Strange," Mao Yifan muttered, scratching his head. "I swear I saw an old woman in here just now."
As he spoke, he rubbed his hands together, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Well, since no one's here, let's just 'borrow' some stuff."
He pulled a large plastic bag from his pocket, shaking it open with a rustle, and his eyes began to scan the shelves for his favorite snacks.
"I'd suggest you don't do that," Haruto warned, his tone flat.
Although he couldn't see or sense any old woman in the kiosk, his intuition as a Boundary Youkai was screaming that something was dangerously wrong with this place.
"It's fine, it's fine." Mao Yifan waved a hand dismissively and puffed out his chest. "Take whatever you want, it's on me. If a ghost comes looking for trouble, tell it to find me!"
Haruto merely raised an eyebrow and didn't move.
Just as Mao Yifan's fingers closed around a bucket of instant noodles—
A ghostly shadow materialized beside him without a sound. It solidified in an instant, its spectral hand clamping down on his wrist with an icy grip.
Before the ghost could do anything else, Kaguya took a single, light step forward.
The world around the spectral figure seemed to warp. It was instantly frozen in place, its movements slowing infinitely until it came to a complete, unnatural standstill, trapped between one moment and the next.
Without a flicker of hesitation, Mao Yifan whipped out a small knife. With a sharp shing, he sliced clean through his own wrist. A sheen of cold sweat instantly beaded on his forehead as he lunged backward, simultaneously pulling a potion from his pocket and gulping it down in one go.
Only then did the pained, distorted grimace on his face slowly begin to settle.
Clap. Clap. Clap.
Haruto offered a slow, deliberate round of applause. "Acting so decisively... that was pretty cool."
Hearing this, Mao Yifan's pain seemed to vanish. He immediately struck a pose, waving his remaining hand nonchalantly as if he hadn't just dismembered himself. "A minor scene. No need to panic."
"Actually," Haruto added dryly, "even if you hadn't cut your hand off, we could have saved you."
Mao Yifan froze. His eyes drifted to the ghost granny, still frozen in time, clutching his severed hand. With a thud, he dropped to his knees and began slapping the ground with his remaining hand, wailing in mock sorrow.
"My right hand—! You died so miserably! How could you just be gone like that—!"
"I might be able to help you reattach it."
The moment the words left Haruto's mouth, Mao Yifan practically bounced up from the ground. He executed a perfect kneeling slide, grabbing onto Haruto's thigh and weeping bitterly.
"Good brother! My dearest brother! Please save my right hand! I can't live without it! I don't want to have to marry some cheap prosthetic!"
"Let go first."
"I won't! Not unless you promise... okay, then."
Seeing a familiar brownish-tan brick materialize in Haruto's hand, Mao Yifan immediately let his survival instincts take over. He scrambled to his feet, though his eyes remained watery as he stared at Haruto, his gaze screaming 'please'.
Haruto sighed and eventually gave Youmu a pointed look.
Youmu understood instantly. Her right hand came to rest on the hilt of her longer katana—the Roukanken.
While her shorter blade, the Hakurouken, was made to cut physical entities, the Roukanken was a sword forged to sever the spiritual.
Shhh—
A cold light flashed, as soft and fleeting as a breath.
In an instant that was no time at all, Youmu had drawn and sheathed her sword.
Under Mao Yifan's bewildered gaze, Haruto walked straight toward the frozen ghost granny. The next second, a paper-thin slit appeared on the ghost's arm. The spectral hand holding Mao Yifan's severed limb detached cleanly at the wrist, falling into Haruto's waiting grasp.
Mao Yifan was astonished. He hadn't seen Haruto—or anyone—do a thing.
Haruto pried open the stiff, ethereal claws, retrieved the still-warm right hand, and gestured to Mao Yifan.
Mao Yifan hurried over, presenting his bloody stump. He watched as Haruto gently aligned the two severed surfaces.
In an instant, countless tiny, worm-like threads of granulation tissue sprouted from the wound. They squirmed and writhed, intertwining and connecting with impossible speed. In just five or six seconds, the wrist was smoothly reattached, leaving not even a scar behind.
"Incredible—!" Mao Yifan exclaimed, excitedly shaking his reborn right hand before giving Haruto a huge thumbs-up. "With a skill like this, you'd be a legend in the surgery world. No, no, no, if you opened a prosthetic repair shop, you'd be making money hand over fist until your arms went numb!"
As he spoke, he cautiously wiggled his fingers and gently rotated his wrist. He found it was not only as flexible as before, but it even felt slightly more sensitive.
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